


Secrets Never Said

by EleanorMonet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Major Illness, Marauders, Marauders' Era, Multi, Romance, Werewolves, Young Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-13 02:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11175111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EleanorMonet/pseuds/EleanorMonet
Summary: This is the real story of Remus and Sirius, from the very beginning to the very end, and everything in between. Remus has been kept hidden away from society for most of his childhood, until Dumbledore forces his way into their hidden home and brings him to Hogwarts, where he meets Sirius Black, a young man with the thirst for rebellion.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why hello there! Welcome to my monster of a story!
> 
> (Spoilers ahead)
> 
> This is a work of fiction that I plan to make very, VERY long. There will be many chapters, both long and very long, and it will follow both stories of Remus and Sirius up until they both die. I've done more Harry Potter research the last month for this story than I ever have before for my old Drarry fanfiction. I want it to be as canon as possible (with the addition of Remus/Sirius relationship) so if you see any mistakes that you know aren't canon, please feel free to comment! Or just comment whatever because I love hearing all sorts of feedback.
> 
> Since this fic will be so long, the actual relationship between them is very eventual, as my main point is to write the story of their lives from the complete beginning to the very end. It does start off in different characters for the first two chapters for each character, and after that, it's just them. However, if you enjoy stories where it takes a long time to build up to those wonderful worth-it moments, then this should be right up your alley. I have always believed that there was a possibility that just MAYBE, since Sirius nor Remus had any confirmed relationships (Besides Remus/Tonks later on) that there was always something between them that was more than just friendship. So this is my take on what really happened.
> 
> Also, I have had no help on writing or editing, so I apologize in advance if I'm a terrible writer.  
> Updates/warnings/additional tags will appear as I continue writing.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

“Absolutely disgusting!”

Lyall tossed the Daily Prophet into the fireplace and watched as his own face that plastered the front page begin to burn, before turning to his wife, who had tried to hide her _I-told-you-so_ grin behind a mug of tea. 

“I make one statement about werewolves, and they blow it totally out of proportion. Who do they think they are, those great sizzling rat brains!”

Hope set her mug down and leaned forward towards her husband, reaching with her strong hand to gently pat his arm. “Well, you were a tad bit harsh with your words, Lyall. Not all werewolves are soulless and evil.”

Lyall ran his fingers through his hair. “They do deserve nothing but death, Hope. You weren’t there - he just sat there, grinning his horrid teeth at the committee, taunting me. You could tell just by the look in his eyes that he was lying - I still can’t believe how he got away with it. I know it was him who’d done it. I swear on my life, if I ever see that man again I’ll -”

Hope tightened her grip on his arm as the little boy who was curled up only moments ago on the couch, unraveled himself from the blanket and fell to the floor and began to cry. That’s all it took for him to snap out of it. How could Lyall ever be angry when he had such a special little boy to coddle back to sleep?

“Hush, my love,” Lyall said, and scooped his hands under the child’s arms, groaning a bit from the weight. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Ya,” he whined, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Can we go to the park now?”

Hope laughed from behind both of them. “It’s off to bed, both of you. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Ah, yes!” Lyall exclaimed happily. “The big fifth birthday for you. Are you excited?”

The boy nodded.

“I bet I’m more excited than you.” Lyall said.

“No way! I am, I am!” squealed the boy.

“I’m two hundred times more excited.”

“I’m _four_ hundred times for excited!”

Hope poked her head in. “And I’m getting impatient.”

The two boys sighed and Lyall put his son back down on the soft rug, still warmed by the late night fire. “Alright. Off to bed with you. Tomorrow we will go to the shops to pick out a few decorations for your party, would you like that?”

The boy jumped up and down and clapped his hands together excitedly. He was much too awake now to go back to sleep, Lyall thought. He leaned over to Hope and whispered, “Maybe tell him that story that always puts him to sleep.”

“Which one?” she whispered back.

“The one about your job with the shower-ants company-”

“Insurance,”

“Right.”

Hope laughed and smacked her husband playfully on the arm. Of course Lyall knew what Muggle insurance was, he had studied the subject intensely after they had first met and he had saved the poor girl from a boggart. It took him a long time to confess his true nature, with him being a wizard and all, and she had accepted him wholeheartedly so from then on he decided to learn as much as he could about how Muggles lived. He was in love. 

And even more so now, he smiled to himself as he watched the two most precious people to him on this planet leave for bedtime. He couldn’t be happier. Lyall had the most perfect life: The perfect wife, the perfect job (even if it did come with it’s frustrations, like the Prophet blabbering their wistful lies and stories about how much he detests werewolves, even if it was true) and the absolute most perfect son in the world. Nothing could ever take away his happiness.

Alone in the room at last. Lyall raised his wand to dim the fire, and found that the prophet had burned to a crisp and there was nothing left but tiny wisps of ash. He still couldn’t believe the Prophet would have such distaste. Not just the prophet, but to be attacked by other members of his department at the Ministry. They were all part of Regulation and Control Of Magical Creatures, in fact his entire team was in that same room with that guilty man sitting in the chair. How could they not see that he was a werewolf? His rough skin, patched with tuffs of hair like no normal man would have. And those eyes - those sniveling evil eyes that every werewolf possessed. It disgusted him, to have to sit there, while his entire team was fooled by the lies that spewed from his mouth. And to top it off, to have been escorted out of the trial like some common criminal simply for speaking the truth.

 _Detention_ , he suggested, _just until the ‘morrow_. Coincidentally, that would have been tonight with the full moon high in the sky, and the ministry, if they had bothered to listen to his concerns, would have been proved wrong and Lyall was certain innocent lives would have been saved. He did not trust this one. He trusted no werewolf, mind you, but _especially_ not this one.

If it was possible, Lyall hated werewolves even more now.

Though, he supposed, it was over and done with and he’d have to face the backlash of werewolf supporters tomorrow, and there was no point in bothering about it now. Especially not the night before his son’s birthday.

After cleaning up Hope’s forgotten mug of tea, shutting the curtains, locking the doors, putting the lamps out, Lyall made his way up to his own room where Hope was laying in bed, book in hand, completely entranced by the words forming pictures in her mind. She hadn’t even noticed him as he walked by to grab a clean pair of pajamas. Lyall waved a hand near her face, but no reaction. She only flipped a page and the crease between her eyes tightened further. 

For a moment, Lyall was stunned by how beautiful she was. He couldn’t imagine being anywhere else, or being with anyone else. Oh how his parents had detested the fact that he fell in love with a Muggle - not that he could blame them. They were from a different time, when it was so much more frowned upon than it was these days. He fought against them so fiercely, trying to win over their blessing, and after they had met Hope they eventually grew to love her as one of their own. He was so happy that they had accepted her before they passed.

He felt so lucky that his little Remus would never have to face any challenges like that.

After a quick bath, Lyall slipped beneath their bed linens. Hope placed her book on the table, and stretched to shut the lamp off. When they had first shared a room, she had insisted that there would be no use of magic after nine at night until they awoke in the morning. He tried to show her how easy it was to close up the house with a wand, but she insisted. It didn’t bother him in the slightest.

“I can take Remus tomorrow, Lyall. You’ll probably have a lot on your hands now that the whole of England knows what you said about Fenrir.”

Lyall sighed knowingly. “That would be much appreciated.”

She gingerly brushed her fingers along his unshaven cheek. “Maybe it would be best if we just stayed in. We could just tell my parents that Remus caught a bug, or that the house burned down, or-”

“It’s fine,” he said, smiling. “I can handle it.”

“I know you can.”

At that moment, Lyall thought he saw a shadow fall across the window from outside. 

“What was that?” he said.

Hope turned and peered over her shoulder. The window was shut, and the air outside was clear and as calm as the full moon that glowed behind. Even the lamp post flames were still.

“Probably just a bird,” she said.

“I’m sure your parents would never forgive me if I had the two of you stay home on Remus’ birthday. Besides, they’re looking forward-”

Another shadow, except this time he knew what he saw.

“There’s someone outside,” he said candidly.

Lyall whipped the sheets off and flew out of bed in an instant. He grabbed his wand, and raised his finger to his lips towards Hope, who had gathered the blankets towards her chest in fear. He wasn’t foolish. He knew the streets were growing thinner. People spent more time locked up and hidden away than having friendly conversations out in public with each other. But no one knew why. At the ministry, there were whispers. Whispers of a man who was in hiding, who had been brave enough to step foot in the true Dark Arts. There was no name, yet, but even Lyall could sense the tension growing around them all. Something bad was coming, and Lyall figured his comments about an evil creature hadn’t helped his luck.

So if he was jumpy, it was with good reason.

“You didn’t see anything before I got into bed, did you?” he whispered.

Hope shook her head. “I was distracted.”

“Right,”

Lyall peered out once more, and after watching for a long moment and deciding it was safe, he grasped the curtains to close them, but was suddenly stricken by how large the full moon really was.

“Fenrir Greyback walks a free wolf tonight.” he muttered.

“Darling, come back to bed.”

“They should have seen the signs,”

“Lyall?” 

Lyall shifted uncomfortably, still grasping the curtains. “He killed those two children. I know he did. I could sense it, but it was just more so obvious when he stepped into the room. It’s almost like everything slowed down. A body, like his, carved and ripped to pieces by his own hands, covered in hair - no, fur - and even just by the way he walked. The evilness and cruelness that spilled from his body.” he turned to Hope. “How could they not listen to me?”

Hope didn’t reply, she only stared wide eyed in disbelief at her husband.

“ _Not all werewolves are bad_ my arse. I mean, have you ever met one?” Lyall growled.

Hope shook her head. “You know I haven’t.”

“Met a Boggart, though,” he said, smirking. “That was almost just as bad.”

“No real danger though since I had you to rescue me.”

Lyall’s face softened, and he turned to close the blinds. The first day they met, Lyall had saved her from a boggart which had taken the shape of a large man. If that man resembled someone she knew, or if she had’ve just been afraid of men in general, Lyall didn’t know. He never asked, because once a Muggle girl had seen another man turn her fear into a small mushroom with the flick of a stick, none of it mattered anymore.

She never feared Lyall, until tonight, but he would never learn of that, because on that night somewhere between the shadows, a large creature with rough patches of fur, long sharp teeth, and eyes that could fool even the smartest wizard, would take everything they ever loved away from them.

And it all started with a scream from across the hall.

\- - - 

His own son.

It all had happened so quickly. The scream came, Lyall ran as fast as he could only to see the creature looming over his injured son with Remus’s blood dripping from it’s horrendous teeth, he knew those blue eyes that stared back at him from inside the monster. Lyall sent Fenrir flying back through the window, curse after curse, and immediately aimed to kill but it was too late - the werewolf had vanished, and Lyall already had Remus cradled in his arms, flying passed his wife towards the downstairs fireplace, grabbing a handful of floo powder, Hope screaming and crying out for him -

“It all had happened so quickly,” Lyall explained, shivering and pushing away another mug of hot water that floated in front of him. “That monster. I’ll kill him!”

“I’m going to need you to relax, Sir.” said a woman dressed in lime green medical robes. “Your son is alive and the healers are doing great work in there.”

Lyall rubbed his eyes free of more tears that had built up. He hadn’t had a moment to relax since it happened, even though it had already been several hours. He sent a letter back home to Hope, having a healer write it for him since he couldn’t work up the energy, explaining where he was and how Remus was doing. _He’s with Healers now_ , he wrote, _he’s going to be alright._

He knew that wasn’t true. Remus would never be okay. The bite was so deep it nearly killed him, but perhaps that’s exactly what Fenrir intended. Afterall, Fenrir was already a professional and skilled at killing children, he must have done this on purpose, man intended bite on his own son for what he said to Fenrir. What was this, payback? Even though the damn foolish monster was set free?

_Soulless._

Lyall would never change his mind. Werewolves truly were the worst creature on this forsaken planet. And now the criminal still walks free - but no, not after tonight. Once he could take Remus home, he would go to the Ministry and demand they take action. Demand they find and destroy the savage who harmed his son -

“Lyall?”

Lyall looked up and quickly realised he had been clenching his fists hard enough that his nails had punctured his skin.

“Healer Gregor,” Lyall muttered. “How is he?”

“He should wake up soon and I’m sure he’ll want to see you when he does,” Gregor sat down slowly next to Lyall and handed him a scrap piece of linen. “We’ve healed his wounds as best as we could, but I’m afraid he will have scarring.”

_Evil._

“How badly?”

“Just a thin one across his chest and shoulder where he was injured.”

Lyall nodded slowly. “I’m just thankful he’s alive.”

“Of course,” Gregor said. “There’s something else we will need to discuss with you before we send you both home.”

Lyall started shaking. Or perhaps he had already been shaking. He couldn’t be sure. Deep down, he knew what the Healer was about to say, and as he prepared himself for the worst, bile rose in his throat and just before he heaved, a bucket appeared and hovered in front of him, catching the contents of his stomach. This could _not_ be happening. 

“I need you to focus on the fact that your son is alive, miraculously alive,” Gregor stated, and briefly paused before carrying on. “He only is because of you. Your quick reactions towards his attacker, and getting him here so quickly, he will be able to live a full and… well, relatively happy life. Lycanthropy, Mr. Lupin, is impossible to cure. I assume, given your history and career, that you’re quite familiar with it’s effects. I am sorry to say that your son has been infected, and will need special care from now on.”

_Deserving nothing but death._

Gregor continued. “After the full rising of each full moon, for one night his body will take on his werewolf form. The process will be very painful. You will need to take certain precautions during these times. However, Mr. Lupin, the most important thing is your own safety. Your son needs you, and he needs you to be careful around him so as he does not harm you.”

“He would never harm me, I am his father.” Lyall said between sobs.

“Of course,” said Gregor compassionately, “But he will not know you as that when he is transformed.”

“Then what should I do? Keep my son in chains while he tries to kill me?”

“Of course not, you-”

“Keep him locked up in some room then, right?” Lyall snapped, and stood. A few of the Healers that were in earshot turned to stare at the sudden burst of anger, but quickly resumed their duties when Lyall glared at them. 

“Mr. Lupin,”

“It’s Lyall.”

“Lyall,” Gregor sighed, obviously uncomfortable. “For the first few full moons we would be more than happy to have him here. We have rooms, specially designed to keep werewolves - specifically newly infected children - safe from others, and from themselves. This can give you and your wife some time to observe and research for yourselves, and prepare for the years to come.”

“My son is not some lab dog for you to do tests and exams on.”

“I never said he was.”

Lyall looked down at the man with soft eyes. He held himself very still for a Healer, his hands clasped together on his lap, but not clenching unlike his own. His face looked older than it should have, most likely because of the stress working in St Mungo’s Hospital. In fact, Lyall knew the stress well, he could relate, so he tried to relax. Gregor was only simply trying to help him understand.

Understand what, exactly? How was he supposed to remember any of this, let alone go home to his wife and try and explain everything when he couldn’t even listen to it himself? Remus, becoming a werewolf. His own son, for Merlin’s sake. A smiling, happy little boy who loved his friends and lived for chocolate and colored outside the lines simply because he could, not because he couldn’t. 

Could he still look at Remus and love him, despite this?

Right. Silly question. He would love his son forever, that was a promise he would never break. There was nothing more important to Lyall than Remus.

A sudden anger filled Lyall at the thought of taking Remus home to Hope, having to watch his heartbreak all over again when he repeated the news. 

He would kill Fenrir Greyback for this. No, he would destroy him,

“May I see my son now?” Lyall asked.

Gregor nodded and stood. “Of course.”

After Lyall was led inside the room, Gregor closed to door quietly as to not disturb the body that lay motionless, tucked under a mound of blankets, with a familiar stuffed dog curled up at his side. The older man took each step towards his son with a new found caution, until he was grasping the railing at the end of the bed. Lyall stared at his son. The blood off of his face was gone and his hair was neatly combed back against his head. His cheeks, just soft and round as a child should have, were pink and rosy like they have always been. His eyelashes fluttered for a moment, before revealing the truest of green that Lyall had ever seen before, and with relief, he released the breath he had been holding, in fear that perhaps his son’s eyes would change to those of a monster.

But they hadn’t, and Lyall suddenly felt very embarrassed that the thought had even crossed his mind.

“Daddy?”

“I’m here,” Lyall said, stepping around the bed to reach his hand to his son’s face. 

“I’m here.”


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Remus made a real friend was when he was seven years old. 

In the Before, he had several friends. Mostly other children from his Father's workplace. From dinner parties, group vacations, Ministry workplace events; they would always be the same group of children that Remus would be put with. He loved it. They played games, tore down cardboard castles, fought battles with licorice wands, even huddled up together on floating clouds for naps. Remus remembered those days fondly.

It was so easy for him to make friends back then. Once, he had befriended another boy instantly, when his Father had taken him to Gringotts before departing to France. Todd was small and lanky, just like Remus was, and they had met on the waiting benches near the entrance. Almost immediately they had started to compete to see who could come up with the silliest name for a dragon. After succeeding with the name ‘Bingolofrups’, Todd’s Aunt had come back to take him home, but Todd begged and begged her to stay so he could keep playing. Remus’s Father returned, and promised them all that they would make a play-date in the near future.

Remus never saw him again.

He longed for those days to return to him. Almost every night, Remus would look at the pictures in the books over and over again, pretending as if the moving characters were his friends. It was easier that way. Each time he would see someone close to his age, it wasn't exciting like it used to be. It was only sadness, knowing that he may never have another friend to play with again. He might say hello, or wave, or offer a kind smile, but there would be nothing else. He was not allowed to get close to anyone.

Only a stupid stuffed dog could be his friend.

It was a Sunday morning. The only reason Remus even knew that was from a small pocket calendar he had stolen from an ominous motel once that they had stayed at during a late night road trip. Out of all the terrible places they have stopped at, ‘Phoenix & Phlegm’ was the worst, with its foreign curtain doors and one night stays only; but the room had this tiny little calendar that on each day that passed, a small red X would appear and the page would rip itself up and turn to dust on each new month. Remus had discovered a few months later that the pages filled back up right back to day one after New Years, and he was so enthralled with this new discovery that he made an effort from then on to collect a small token from each place they stayed in, whether it be a magical item or just a stone from the lot.

Both his Mum and Dad were in their kitchen - their new kitchen - unpacking boxes and putting things away as quickly as possible. Dad had his wand out, putting things carelessly into cupboards and his Mom frowning and replacing them correctly. Remus watched, as he had done several times before, unable to help. He wanted to, even offered as he picked up a lighter box by the front door, but his Dad swooped in and told him to go down the hall to his new room. He didn't like this room. A chunk of carpet was missing near the door and there were so many stains on the roof. And then there was that _smell_ coming from the closet. He hadn't dared to open and find out what it was.

For a while he just sat on his bed, staring at the wall, waiting for his Mother to burst into his room and spoil him with hugs and kisses like she used to. He thought maybe they'd skip visiting the new Healer and go to the park instead. Father used to love the park. He'd sit at the end of the slide with his arms wide open, while his Mother would stand back with the video camera with a big smile. He hadn't been to a park for a long time, not since they walked by one on their way to see Maisy.

Maisy. Remus despised Maisy, with her subjective attitude towards his Father, and her constant coddling towards himself. She was a werewolf fanatic, practically boasting about her husband and all the wonderful things he did to raise awareness for Lycanthropy. That set his Father off the wall. He nearly pushed her out of her own window after she called him a lunatic - though, Remus couldn’t blame her, but still the way she bragged about how wonderful it was to be a werewolf, and how she had tried to make Remus feel as though he was extraordinary.

Remus wasn’t foolish.

The pain that it caused. Bones breaking all over again, the horrendous itch of fire burning beneath your skin as the wolf took form, and even turning back into himself - it was nothing to feel honoured for. In fact, he felt less of a human more and more each time, undeserving of any praise whatsoever. Father had always said werewolves were terrible, and it was true. He knew it, because he was one. He couldn't possibly be extraordinary - he was a mutant, a freak. A dangerous creature that needed to be locked away from anyone. Remus knew that, and accepted it. He could hate it, he would always hate it, but it was easier to accept the fact that he was a monster, rather than try and convince himself otherwise. That's how people get hurt. Believing in something that isn't true.

Once his parents had unpacked their belongings, his Mum had come into his room with a tray of tea and freshly baked cookies. 

“How are you feeling, Remus?” she asked, sitting down beside him on his bed.

Remus only shrugged.

“I made these just for you,” she said, “Mummy’s famous Muggle cookies.”

“Thanks.”

“Everything okay?”

_No,_ he wanted to say, _nothing is okay. I’m about to meet another Healer that will probably just annoy Dad to no end and we’ll have to move again and the neighbours will hate us because I'm a freak and I’ll never have any friends ever, ever, ever!_

“I’m fine.”

Hope emptied the tray of goods onto Remus’s small, creaky bedside table, covering the years worth of stains and damage it had taken from being moved around so often. Just like everything else he owned.

“You know we’re going to find something one day, right?” she said with a smile.

Remus nodded.

“Come on, have just one cookie. I even put some chocolate in them this time.”

Giving in, Remus reached and grabbed a cookie off the plate. It was still warm, and he had to admit that he was a bit hungry. They hadn’t eaten the whole morning. Remus only had a moment to grab an apple the night before they made their journey to their new home, and it was a long one, since his Mother had demanded they travel by car. Once they arrived, Remus felt saddened by how small and sad the trailer had looked from the outside. There were people watching them, sitting outside in worn out plastic chairs. Piles of garbage littered the streets. He looked for toys and bicycles, but found none. Stray dogs sat on lawns, and when Remus had approached them, they squealed in fear and ran off into the woods. All night his stomach burned with the thought of food, but made no effort to rummage the cupboards for a snack. He was too upset.

He felt lonely.

Except now, during small moments like this, taking bites of warm cookies and feeling safe.

“Better?” Hope asked.

“Better.”

She smiled and ruffled Remus’s hair. “I’m glad. Lunch will be ready soon and then we’re off to meet Madame Riggleby, alright?”

“Alright.”

“Are you nervous?”

Remus shook his said, and through a mouthful of cookie he replied, “Not really.”

“Good.” she stood up, brushing out the wrinkles from her apron. “Come out when you’re ready for lunch.” Hope leaned down and gave Remus a kiss on the forehead before retreating back to the hallway.

Deciding that he'd rather not feel so lonely anymore, Remus reached under his bed and pulled out a small box wrapped in an old t-shirt, and placed it in front of him on his bed. One at a time, he pulled out a small object, gently touching them, thinking back to the memories that each treasure contained. Photos of him and his old friends, of his parents looking happy with large smiles on their faces, but they had aged. They had been folded so many times over again that they began to crack and rip. A small toy airplane, a birthday candle that was never used for his fifth birthday, and a plastic wolf. 

They ate their lunch quickly and dressed in their raincoats, and together huddled under one large umbrella as they hiked through the woods towards their destination. Riggleby didn’t live far from their new home, which Lyall had purposefully found in case this Healer really could be the one. The one for what, Remus didn’t know. He knew there was no cure, and really he wasn’t expecting there to be each time they repeated this pattern. They would walk in, meet some crazy person who seemed to either want to convince them that Lycanthropy wasn’t a big deal, or they wanted to test him with their newest miracle potion that supposedly would cure him. Mostly they just made him feel sick, or made his skin bubble, or the one time that he drank a foul smelling concoction that transformed his legs into a fishtail. 

Yet, even after several failed attempts with no cure in sight, Lyall continued to endeavor, but with this persistence came severe consequences. His parents fought nearly every single day. The loneliness, either locked up in his room with only books to keep him company, or outside with his Mum as she tried her best to make a stable living environment to blend in with their Muggle neighbours. His parents had aged too quickly, just like the photos. It wasn't a life he had wanted.

It felt like hours as they trekked through a dense forest, following a small trail that was lit up with a stream of yellow footprints that Lyall conjured to show the way. There we no wards once they came to a floral archway, covered in lush red roses. Remus still wasn’t used to magic. Sometimes he even forgot that it existed, only to be reminded when his father used several charms the night of the full moon to lock him away in the darkness.

Remus glanced up at his Mother, who stepped cautiously under the rose arch, eyes wide with what he pretended was admiration instead of the fear that it was. The outside of the small cottage was littered with plants; tall grass around the fence that grew taller than the cottage, wildflowers of every colour, trees growing in every direction with brilliant trunks that twisted together, and on the lawn was a giant patch of red mushrooms with some that grew large enough to sit on. Even the roof was made of moss that drooped down to cover the siding and the windows. All he could do was stare in awe at the magnificent place of paradise.

“This is exactly the sort of place we need to find to live in,” Lyall said after a moment. “No one around, complete isolation!”

Hope snorted. “Yes, dear. Let’s keep our son as far away from humanity as possible. It’s bad enough he needs to be locked up once a month, let alone for the rest of his life.”

“That’s why we’re here. So we don’t have to do that anymore.”

“Whatever you say.”

The glare shared between them sent Remus’s nerves on edge. He didn’t want them to fight, at least not now, because right away he noticed a small pair of yellow polkadot boots covered in a fresh layer of mud out on the porch. They were small boots. Small enough to fit a -

“Child!” a voice called from somewhere behind the house. “Get back here!”

Around the right side of the house, a small child burst through a raspberry bush into the front garden. She had long legs and wore a red shirt that was far too big for her size, and in her arms she was cradling a small baby goat. As soon as she saw Remus and his parents standing there, she came to an abrupt stop and fell backwards flat on her rear end, dropping the small goat which inevitably ran off.

He couldn't believe it.

Another woman, noticeably larger and a lot heftier than his own mother, stepped out of the bush wearing a very large and battered red robe over multiple layers of patterned aprons. Her messy hair was a brilliant shade of red, and it was all piled on the top of her head in a massive bun looking as though it was too heavy to hold. Out of her aprons she had many things poking out; little bunches of herbs and sticks, a book or two, some loose papers and quills over top, and what looked to Remus like the holding end of an overcooked turkey leg. To top off the odd outfit, she wore a necklace of empty bottles and tubes. He didn't want to know what they contained.

“Ah, guests!” she exclaimed, “Sorry for the mess.”

She reached down to rake her fingers through the girl’s muddy hair, pulled out a raspberry and plopped it into her mouth. The old woman dug around in her aprons before pulling out a wand, and giving it a quick flick. Remus stood back, closer to his Mum when the plants that were covering the property began to shrink and quickly resumed to what almost looked normal. Suddenly there was a perfectly round cottage, with log siding and an iron chimney puffing out bursts of purple smoke. 

It was _amazing._

The small girl reached down into some tall grass and plucked a little red flower from the earth. She brought it to her nose and took a deep breath; the sun made her hair sparkle a bit and Remus thought she looked like a princess from the storybook Princess and the Cursed Pony that his Mother had read to him once as a child. Carefully, and as everyone else watched, she stepped over the grass and stopped directly in front of Remus. His palms became sweaty for some reason. This was the first child his height he had met in years and he couldn't remember how to say hello.

“Hello,” she said.

Remus nodded.

The girl took his sweaty hand and placed the small red flower on his palm, and curled his fingers around the stem for him. “It's a Poppy. Like me! I'm Poppy.”

Remus nodded again.

After several moments of Remus waiting for the moment where his parents drag him away, Riggleby waved her arms in the air. “Well? What are you waiting for?” she said, slipping the wand into a different pocket, imminent to be lost again, and waltzed onto her porch and opened the door to her home. 

“Right,” Lyall said, and gently touched the back of Remus’s back to lead him into the home, leaving Poppy to go back to playing with plants. Inside was surprisingly ordinary, but charmed to be bigger than how it looked from the outside. A _lot_ bigger.

The walls were very plain, decorated only with minimal framed photographs of people. There were a few bookshelves, stuffed mostly with history books and probably a lot of healing spell books and potion recipes. Apart from the occasional overgrown plant in the home, everything felt very clean and fresh. 

_Safe._

“Helps my patients feel less distracted,” the woman said, giving Remus a knowing glance, but he hadn't noticed. He was too busy looking over his shoulder, watching the small girl dance outside under the sun. 

Riggleby led them through a hallway and down a set of winding stairs. Each step they took echoed against the empty walls and the tall roof, which was charmed to look like they were under water. Eventually they came to a single door looking very out of place. It was old and wooden, with large iron locks lining the sides. She waved her wand over it and a cold feeling rippled through Remus’s senses, and when the door opened, all sense of safety had vanished.

The walls, floors, and ceiling alike covered in rough scratches etched into the iron layer surrounding the entire room. There were dark stains in patches across the floor, which Remus knew only had to be blood, but large enough to raise alarm.

“We’d leave mice in here some nights,” Riggleby said, noting his suspicion. “If we left him alone by himself, he'd go insane and start ripping his own flesh to bits.”

“That's horrible,” muttered Hope.

“I could only assume this is why you've brought _him_ here,” Riggleby nodded towards Remus. “To seek a space to lock him up in?”

Lyall looked surprised. “How did you know he was… infected?”

“Pumpkin, I've lived with a werewolf for most of my life. I can spot one from miles away. Besides, why else would you visit? I've got nothin' to offer besides a giant eggplant - that's not why you're here is it? Oh, I shouldn't be so assuming! I knew there was a family coming for my eggplant but I didn't think-”

"No, no! You were right before," Remus's Mother assured.

"Ah," She raised her wand and whispered _Lumos_ , and suddenly the room was lit up for them to freely take a closer look. Remus looked up at his Father who muttered, “Giant eggplant?” to his Mother, before entering the room on his own. He ran his fingers against some of the scratches left behind, feeling uncertain as he felt the ridges against his fingertips that after time had become rough from rust. His walls never looked like this. These scratches were thick and long, and at the top they were deep where the end was thin. As if they were slowly drawn out, purposefully and carefully. His own were small, sharp, frantic, and all over the place. 

Remus never remembered his transformations, which he supposed was a blessing. He could still feel the pain afterwards, but the worst part of it all was the real pain he knew it caused his parents. He thought back on the Before days, waking up to the warm smell of breakfast, racing down the stairs to beat his Father to the table, enjoying the comfort of his family. Now he could barely lift his head when he woke, and didn't care for eating any sort of food until later in the day. He wondered if it was because he was in pain, or because his parents never bothered with cooking anymore. His Mother used to enjoy it so much, there was always something different on the table and somehow each time was better than the last.

There it was again. The loneliness. 

“Did he ever escape, your husband?” asked Hope.

“Escape?” Riggleby laughed. “No, never. At least not from this room. It's not only covered in inches iron and silver, but there's a fair few number of charms we used the night before as extra precautions.”

“What of the blood stains? They're rather... large, for small mice.” 

Riggleby chewed on her lip. “Mostly small animals, some large, but always killed beforehand. Sometimes we'd stumble on a dead deer or skunk off the road, hit by a Muggle car, and drag it in here to rot while we waited for the full moon.”

“That's revolting.”

"I can't agree more! Muggles are always hitting animals and just _leaving _them on the road-"__

__"I meant having to keep dead animals in here to rot."_ _

__“Ah... Yes, well, anything is better than him turning on himself, isn't it?”_ _

__Remus didn't understand what she meant by that. _Turning on himself,_ had she meant attacking and harming his own body during the transformation? Remus had seen his own damage, on walls and floors and dug up quite the number of holes in their fenced yard, but never had he attacked himself._ _

__After a moment, Riggleby must have noted the confused looks on their faces, and said, “It happens as they age.” Remus hadn't known that. He knew that he would one day crave human flesh to tear apart when he was changed. And if there was no animal or human around…_ _

__“I apologize,” the older woman said. “That got rather macabre quite quickly, didn't it? It's not all bad, I promise. You could always stick them in a room with filled balloons and cardboard boxes if you prefer. Gives them something to destroy that's not so… horrible.”_ _

__“Isn't it blood they crave?” Lyall asked, breaking his silence._ _

__“Well-”_ _

__“And as far as the ministry is concerned, it is against the law to provide fresh meat to them as they continue to crave it more and more as they grow into their mutant form, creating an even more dangerous beast. We're you aware of this fact before you started feeding your pet?”_ _

__“M-my husband-”_ _

__“Yes, yes, your husband was different, was he?” Lyall stepped forward with an outstretched finger. Remus clutched his Mother's arm. _Not again, Father..._ “They're all _different_ until you make one wrong move and you're dead. Because as far as your husband is concerned when he's transformed, you're just a hot fresh meal on a pair of walking legs.”_ _

__Hope gasped. “Lyall!”_ _

__Riggleby flushed, but she did not raise her voice back at Remus’s Father. “So,” she said calmly and a lot more quietly, “Does this room not suit your requirements?”_ _

__“Actually, that's not why we're here.”_ _

__“Then, why?”_ _

__“A cure,” he said, “We've heard a rumor that you possess the cure for the infection.”_ _

__Riggleby let out a deep, wicked laugh, sending her hair bun in a dance on the top of her head. “Have I ever heard such nonsense! You cannot cure a werewolf, it's simply impossible. Even if I had, you think I would hand it over to the likes of you? A stranger who flabbs his ignorant mouth to a woman in her own home?”_ _

__“Your infected husband-”_ _

__“My husband was a werewolf, yes.” Riggleby said. Her fingers began to tap restlessly against her sides, presumably readying herself to throw them out. Remus recognized the stance well. "I can't possibly understand why anyone would believe I had the cure."_ _

__“ _Was_ a were- was infected. As in he's no longer? Because you cured him?”_ _

__Riggleby had then seemed startled by the sudden change in conversation.“He's off being dead now, I promise. Got hit with a nasty case of Dragon Pox. Terrible case, that one.”_ _

__Lyall sighed in annoyance. “You expect me to believe your husband died of a treatable illness, when he was married to a Healer?”_ _

__“Are you accusing me of lying, now?”_ _

__Lyall pointed a finger directly towards her face. “It's common knowledge that your husband was seen at night, during the full moon, as human as possible. So yes, I suppose I am accusing you of lying!”_ _

__Riggleby smacked away Lyall’s finger. “How dare you! You- you come into _my_ home, I show you to the very room that my dear husband suffered in! He was not human, he's been a werewolf since he was a child, but he was not a monster - whoever was seen was not my husband, that's the monster I tell you! And - and it's called Lycanthropy! It's called being a werewolf! Great skies, you can't even bring yourself to say the word in front of your own _son!_ ”_ _

__Lyall tossed his scarf back around his neck and said, “Come now, we'll be leaving.”_ _

__“Your son is still welcome!” she shouted as they left in a hurry. Remus turned with a saddened look, disappointed by the events, to wave goodbye to the kind lady who offered him only a safe place, refuge, and a room to freely keep him away from the outside world._ _

__Father had once again ruined the opportunity._ _

__Remus was tugged along back up the stairs, through the lobby, and out the front garden which had once again been overthrown by vegetation. The small girl, Poppy, was sitting on a large mushroom and waved frantically as they left the garden and disappeared into the forest. He clutched at the small flower that had grown hot and damp in his sweaty palms. The petals had wilted. If only Father hadn't such a large mouth and a distaste for werewolf supporters, perhaps Remus would have had a chance to speak to the girl, maybe even introduce himself and ask her about her own Father. Now he longed to talk to someone, anyone, besides his parents._ _

__Though maybe it was for the best. His Father was, after all, a working member of the ministry - at least he was Before, but he was still the most intelligent man Remus had ever known. _Father just cares too much about me. He knows what he’s doing. Trust him.__ _

__For the next three days, his parents slumped about the small house complaining about how they kept following new trails and ending up back where they started. They were so distracted by their own research that Remus had snuck out more than twice each day to run into the forest, to try and find the path back Riggleby’s home. On the seventh try, which happened to be the day of the full moon, his attempt was a success and finally the small cabin in the woods came into his view, perched atop a hill surrounded by several tall, looming trees with thick trunks, and lush forest floor._ _

__He knew he shouldn't be here. He knew it was bad._ _

__But curiosity always got the best of him._ _

__Poppy was in the woods. He peeked out behind the concealing tree, and watched her while she dug through a pile of dirt and branches. Her arms were covered to her elbow in mud, and when Poppy tried to rub it off on her hair, she only squawked in frustration when the mud dripped onto her face. The sight made Remus giggle._ _

__Then she turned at the sound. Remus’s cover was blown. He wondered if he should flee, because his parents would be so angry that he left without their consent - especially on the day when in only a few short hours he would have to be taken and left to turn in the small underground vegetable cellar - but Poppy grew a wide smile and waved her arms towards him._ _

__“Remus! Remus!” she called. Remus stepped out from his hiding spot and cautiously stepped towards her. She ran until she nearly collided into him and Remus had to reach out to grab her steady before she could fall flat on her face. “You came back!” she said._ _

___I have to turn back. Run and go home. I'm not allowed to talk to children. Trust Father._ _ _

__Remus nodded._ _

__“I was so worried - Mum said you’d be gone for good, but here you are! She said your Papa didn’t like us much, can’t see why,” Poppy brushed some more dirt off her arms, sending little splatters onto Remus’s shirt. “I think me Mum’s pretty grand, don’t you? She can get a bit wild sometimes, scares the squirrels off a lot. But they always come back. I always put peanuts out for ‘em, and then the birds come in and that’s no good so we use our little thingy here,” A small slingshot made of wood, worn down from so much use. She jabbed it towards his face. “Sends them straight back up into the sky! Wanna see?”_ _

__Her eyes were wide and full of life, unlike most of the other children he had met. Remus almost felt _jealous_ of her enthusiasm. _ _

__When Remus didn’t respond, she tugged at the cuff of his sleeve and led him towards the home. “I’ll take you to a wonderful place. Me Mum grows a garden, she says the garden will protect us from the folk that don’t live in the woods. I hope that’s not you, you’re in the woods so you must not be bad. But I love the garden. It’s got a mushroom that Mum grows so big that you can sit underneath it and have a picnic - oh! Would you like to have a picnic with me?”_ _

__Remus opened his mouth to say no, then the gates opened for them and he was led back into the tall grass front yard, and he suddenly felt very afraid. _I shouldn't be here. I should leave. I should run.__ _

__“I can’t,” he said at last._ _

__“Why not? It’s all right, I promise. Mum won’t mind, she’s off in the town, probably at the shops looking for-”_ _

__“I can’t.”_ _

__Poppy turned with hands on her hips. “But why?”_ _

__“I only came to say hello.”_ _

__“Don’t you live a long way away from here?”_ _

__Remus nodded._ _

__“It’s a long walk, and you could get lost without your Mum and Papa. Did you get lost?”_ _

__He shook his head._ _

__“But you came all the way here to just say hello to me? By yourself?”_ _

__He nodded again._ _

__Poppy tossed the slingshot to the ground and jumped into Remus, throwing her arms around his neck. He should have pushed her off, because Father always told him how dangerous it was to make friends. But his Father wasn’t here, so Remus decided to ignore the warning bells going off inside his head. Now what, should he hug her back? Should he tell her that the flower was a nice gift? Should he run away?_ _

__Strangely, he patted the top of her head._ _

__“You’re _so_ nice, Remus,” she said, pulling herself away, not even noticing that Remus didn't know how to react to anything she did. “Every time someone comes about, they never come back. You’re the first, you know? Even the grown up ones never come back. They say they do, oh but I know they’re only being polite. I think maybe they’re afraid of us. It's weird, innit? Are you afraid of us?”_ _

__“No,” said Remus._ _

__“This is wonderful! I have a friend!” she danced around in a few circles before tirelessly falling to the ground in a fit of giggles. She watched the sky for a long moment, until Remus grew worried that she had fallen asleep, so he laid down next to her and poked her arm. Her eyes were open, but blinking. Remus sighed with relief._ _

__“Will you come back tomorrow?” she asked, turning her head to the side to look at Remus._ _

__“No,” he said, and Poppy looked sad until he promised, “Maybe.”_ _

__They stayed like that for a long while. Too long. Remus knew by the time a whole new bunch of clouds had formed, his parents were most likely out searching for him, tearing the trailer apart and yelling at the neighbours. He knew he had to go back, he didn't want to worry his parents._ _

__"I have to go," he said, sitting up._ _

__Poppy didn't mind. She gave him another hug, to which Remus responded by awkwardly patting her head again, and left._ _

__A friend. A real friend to keep. Remus wasn’t sure if she could classify as a real friend, but he so badly wanted it to be true that each time he thought about her on the way back, he smiled and pretended that they were _best_ friends. Tomorrow, maybe, once he had a chance to rest and recover from his change, he would go back, perhaps even with a small stolen bag of his Mother’s cookies to share, and they would play together all day and Remus would even have a chance to use the slingshot. As he came to the small trailer, he saw no signs of his parent’s outside, and his small bedroom window was still open. If he used the front door, he could tell them how wonderful Poppy was and how it was okay that he went back and played with her again. They would understand, he knew they would._ _

__To his relief, they were still in the kitchen, huddled over stacks and stacks of books and newspapers and empty bowls of porridge when he walked in. They hadn’t even noticed him, even when he walked by and said hello, they simply waved him off and told him to help himself to supper in the fridge. An orange, or a half a can of peas. He chose the orange and stayed in bed until his Father came to lead him down to the secret cellar._ _

__While he could, alone and feeling abnormally excited about the days events, he thought about Poppy. He thought about her wondrous golden hair, tied together with a hundred red poppy petals, and her smile and how happy she had been to see Remus again. He had visions of them together, jumping into piles of leaves and eating cookies until their bellies dared to burst open. For now, it was a secret. A secret that no one else would share besides him and his best friend, at least until he worked up enough courage to tell his Father._ _

__But Remus would never have the chance to tell his Father, because when he woke, he was not in the cellar, but in the woods, naked and shivering, being covered by a scratchy wool blanket. He was scooped up from a sticky pool of water - no, not water. Too red. But Remus couldn’t tell because everything was blurry and his bones ached and his eyes couldn’t put together the three dizzying faces of his screaming Mother._ _

__He’d never have the chance because they shoved him in the back of the old Pontiac, and drove off leaving all of their things behind, including Remus’s stupid stuffed bear, his box of treasures, and the cookies he still had not touched. He’d never tell his Father anything, because each time he tried, they would respond by telling him to stop talking, or he would receive comfort and tears from his Mother, spewing promises that everything would be okay, and that none of it was his fault._ _

__He’d never tell his Father about his friend, because there was no longer a friend to have._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around until chapter 2! The next 2 chapters will focus on Sirius and follow the same pattern, and then we will resume to a normal pattern of switching off between the two characters. Please feel free to comment! Any feedback is much loved <3
> 
> Cheers!


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